Past Bedtime
by Samsquatch67
Summary: Well, Sam's first word was never going to be 'mom', and why would it be 'dad', when John wasn't the one raising him? wee!chester's, NO SLASH, ONE-SHOT. (And I just picked a random rating because it wouldn't post without. So, there is NOTHING bad in this story just btw.)


MAY 29TH, 1984, DALLAS TEXAS, 9:45 PM: Dean had put little 1-year-old Sammy to sleep at eight, and was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for their father to get back now. It had been a hard fought battle getting his baby brother to go to sleep. The 1-year-old had wiggled and squirmed, moaned and mumbled a jumble of unintelligible phrases. He had finally convinced Sam to go to sleep, but only after a bedtime story and a glass of milk. The kid was picky, but Dean loved him all the same.  
Dean understood his little brother, though Sammy had never spoken a real word. Sam was a year old give or take a few weeks, and still he had made no attempt to communicate with anyone... well, anyone except Dean. Dean had been attempting to get Sam to talk, but so far, his attempts were not going all that incredibly. He knew that his little brother was smart, he KNEW it... he just had to get Sam to talk. Dean didn't talk much himself, not since the fire when Mary had died, but he always talked to little Sam... He wanted his brother to feel safe no matter what.  
5-year-old Dean sat on the edge of the bed, sighing quietly and now only waiting. John had promised he would be back by 10:30. He had wanted Sam asleep by then, and had actually asked Dean to try to get to sleep, but he couldn't... he Just couldn't. He had paced for a bit, he had tried a few other things a five year old would have, such as coloring, and a few other things, but nothing calmed him down, so now, he sat at the edge of the bed he shared with Sam, watching the door intently, waiting for John to come back.

Sam had finally drifted off, his breathing coming even and steady for the past half an hour, or less. His outside appearance was calmer than the storm inside of him... He flinched occasionally, his breathing hitching, the cold hands of an clown inside his dream... Red lips, red nose, razor sharp teeth, sickening, nauseous laugh... The clown pulled him forward by the hand towards the abandoned playground, laughing all the while. The bony monstrous clown slid down the slide, laughing again, "You wanna try?" it hissed. The one-year-old tried to bolt, screaming at the top of his lungs as he felt himself lifted off the ground by the clown. "DEAN HEWP!" he heard himself screeching. Slowly the dream faded, only to leave him an scared, shivering mess. He crawled forward to the edge of the bed, looking at his older brother and stifling a petrified sob.

Dean knew instantly that Sam had just had a nightmare. He turned around and looked at Sam through the darkness. He pulled his tiny little brother into his arms and then pulled himself and Sam back toward the wall so he could lean against it. "It's okay Sammy. You're safe here... 't'sokay." he ran his words together tiredly, he knew it was WAY past time for him to be asleep. His father's words ran through his mind, 'Dean, you need to go to sleep to... you're only five.' He pushed the words away and kept talking quietly to his little brother. "You trust me don't you, Sammy?" he asked, knowing that he would get no answer to that, so he continued. "It's not gonna hurt you, I promise." he whispered, ruffling Sam's curly, soft, brown hair. "Just a bad dream... and bad dreams aren't real." he promised. "Mom said angels are watching over us... y' know what that means Sammy? It means we're safe." he said quietly.

Sam melted against his brother, listening to him as he spoke, blinking slowly and looking up at Dean, nodding vigorously as he said 'you trust me don't you, Sammy?' and continued on from there. Sam took a deep breath, tears glistening in his eyes. He pulled back only enough to see Dean's face, the exhaustion clearly written all over his expression. He buried his head into his chest, still looking upward in an awkward position. "Dea..." he said, an almost pleading in his voice as he looked between his brother and the bed on the other side of the room. He leaned closer to him, despite trying to convince him to get sleep, his small arms moving out to wrap around Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to reply, and then promptly shut it again. Sam had just spoken, albeit, the word was only mostly finished, but it was a word, and not just ANY word, but HIS name. He looked down at Sam, his green-hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, Sammy..." he whispered happily. Sam had spoken! He couldn't help but allow the pride that swelled in his heart for a moment. He hugged Sam and took a deep breath, letting his head rest on top of Sam's, and then looking up again. "Good job Sammy." he whispered, moving back in the motel bed and putting Sam under the covers. With that, he moved under them as well, beside his younger brother.

Sam let a smile grow on his face at Dean's excitement, and finally staying in the bed himself. He curled sideways into an ball, leaning his head against Dean's shoulder and closing his green-blue eyes. "D'n..." he muttered quietly, the only other sound besides the mini refrigerator and the cars passing just outside. Dean was proud! And come to think of it... he liked saying the name out loud. He liked the sound and feel of an actual word leaving his lips, he liked talking. But it still baffled him why his big brother had gotten so stoked about it.


End file.
